Welcome to España 2025: the Grandparents on a Gap Year, where two retirees—armed with a sense of adventure, a sturdy pair of walking shoes, and an ever-growing appreciation for siestas—embark on a two-month escapade across Spain.
In the style of Don Quixote
In the year of our Lord 2025, in the mild season of March, when the sun of the Antipodes still shines upon our distant homeland, we shall embark upon a grand quest. Not for riches, nor for fame, but for the finest tapas, the most illustrious landscapes, and the occasional well-earned siesta.
Thus, we shall set forth upon a great silver bird, aloft to Doha, a land of endless sand and air-conditioned marvels, where we shall encounter our first trials: the labyrinthine airport and the peril of over-salted airline food. From thence, we shall venture westward to Barcelona, a city of enchantment, where the great wizard Gaudí has conjured cathedrals that melt like candles and houses that refuse to have straight walls. There, we shall take our first stand against the adversary known as “overly ambitious sightseeing,” realizing too late that the Sagrada Familia does not grant rest to weary feet.
With renewed vigor (and an extra café con leche), we shall ride forth to Girona and Cadaqués, lands of medieval splendor and Dalí’s eccentric dreams. “Is it madness or genius?” we shall ponder before a melted clock, and with a shrug, we shall declare it both, as any good traveler would.
Then, onward to Madrid, where the streets shall bristle with life and the Prado Museum will whisper tales of history and art. Here, we shall dine as kings, indulging in feasts of jamón and churros, though we shall meet our next formidable foe: the Spanish dinner hour, which lurks suspiciously close to bedtime.
Ever onward we shall press, to Almagro, in the very heart of La Mancha, the homeland of our literary guide, Don Quixote himself! We shall consider acquiring a noble steed (or at least a rental car) to seek our own windmills, but alas, the local innkeeper will advise against it, citing “insurance concerns.”
With Andalusian dreams calling, we shall sally forth to Seville, where orange trees will perfume the streets and flamenco dancers shall stamp their defiance at gravity itself. In Cádiz, the sea air will refresh us, in Jerez, we shall duel against sherry and declare a glorious victory, and in Málaga, we shall trace the brushstrokes of Picasso’s youth. But Granada! Ah, Granada!—where the Alhambra will glow in moonlight, and we, overcome by its beauty, shall be momentarily silenced—a rare occurrence indeed.
At Córdoba, we shall behold the Mezquita, a mosque turned cathedral turned marvel of human ingenuity, before returning, full circle, to Toledo, the city of three cultures, where our quest will near its conclusion.
But alas! The journey shall not end there, for we shall embark upon yet another aerial steed to Helsinki, a land of cool breezes and efficiency, and then on to Hong Kong, where neon dragons shall illuminate our path homeward.
At last, weary but triumphant, we shall return to Australia, bearing tales of conquest, plates of confiscated cheese (cursed be customs!), and the knowledge that adventure, like a good glass of Rioja, improves with age.
Thus shall this chapter unfold, but the road, dear reader, shall never truly be done.
¡Adelante!